A/N: Wow, I just realized that the title sounds like that retarded Hardyz book... HA! And I thought I was being all existential and shit. But anyway, it's actually... disgusting with the amount of bad writing on this site. For Ali because I promised her something a long time ago and I never wrote it. :-) Kinda inspired by Echo by Trapt. hxc man.

Mike Mizanin was a fucking asshole.

Now, I'm not going to say I was a fucking saint or anything... but that jerk off really knew how to push everyone's buttons. If it wasn't some guy he was talking trash about, it was some girl he was trying to sleep with.

But that girl was never me.

You know, his girlfriend.

I started dating him about three years ago... two or three, I don't know, I'm not exactly good with remembering things. But neither is Mike, apparently, since he openly hits on every Diva that crosses his path.

Especially that French Canadian bitch.

I liked Maryse when I first met her, I really did, but when Michael's wandering eye started running, I knew I was in trouble.

Big trouble.

"You're being unreasonable," he said, bored.

I could barely contain my anger. How could he just sit there with that nonchalant expression? He wasn't even looking at me, for Christ's sake. He was watching television without his shirt on, half attempting to get ready to go to the arena for a house show.

I just kept packing.

"Really, Al." He glanced over, then again, eyes widening. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I told you, Michael, I'm leaving."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sick of your attitude." I couldn't even look at him. I felt like such a coward, but I knew I was doing the right thing. "You weren't like this before."

"What am I like now?" He wasn't even listening. I could tell by his tone—there was a beautiful woman on the TV.